


One More Time

by goddessofcruelty



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dub Con is because of Heat, Dubious Consent, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Rare Pairings, Transgender Peter Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 08:56:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1892991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessofcruelty/pseuds/goddessofcruelty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Alan..” His voice is raspy and thick, and the druid twitches. Peter hasn't called him by his first name in a long, long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One More Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Prompt: Peter/Deaton - Peter in heat

“Be with you in a moment,” Alan Deaton calls out pleasantly, as the door bell jingles to let him know a customer has arrived. Must be a drop in, since he doesn't have any appointments left today.

He finishes with what he's doing, tosses his gloves and washes his hands thoroughly. Only after that does the veterinarian poke his head through the door and look into the waiting room. It's empty.

With a furrowed brow, as he hadn't heard whoever it was leave, Alan rests a hand on the taser in his pocket and creeps forward, scanning the ceiling first, and then coming around the counter to see someone lying on his floor.

The person rolls over, pressing his cheek to the cool stone floor and Alan relaxes. Somewhat. He's 73.8% sure that Peter Hale isn't planning to kill him. At least not this time.

Peter makes this strange sound, a moan like he's in pain, and Deaton kneels next to him, resting a hand on the werewolf's arm, then pulling it back. The younger man feels like he's on fire, running too hot even for a wolf. He pulls Peter over onto his back, and yes, his face is flushed, glazed eyes glowing unnaturally blue, and he's shivering.

“Peter, what happened?”

Peter just lets out another moan like he's dying. Alan grumbles and reaches back to break the line of wolfsbane behind him.

With a put-upon sigh, the Emissary heaves Peter over his shoulder, and takes him into the back room, flopping him onto the examining table. The wolf shivers at the cold, and then presses down into it, as if seeking relief from his fever.

The veterinarian grabs some scissors and cuts Peter's shirt free, accidentally brushes across one of the wolf's nipples and it apparently affects him strongly, because Peter gasps loudly and his eyes focus on Deaton for the first time.

“Alan..” His voice is raspy and thick, and the druid twitches. Peter hasn't called him by his first name in a long, long time.

“Peter.” His voice is cool, professional. “What happened?” He gets out a couple ice packs and hands them to the wolf, while he prepares a needle to draw some blood.

“Magic.” Peter manages. “Fairies.” His eyes, still glowing, watch Alan jab the needle into his arm, and the pain brings him a little more clarity.

“They threw a spell at Scott. I got in the way.”

“Usually you're better at staying off the front lines.” Deaton can't help the tinge of bitterness in his voice.

Peter is himself enough to hear it, and his lips twist in something akin to a bitter smirk. “Twenty years.”

“Nineteen years and three months,” the vet corrects him, as Alan prepares a slide and puts it under his microscope.

Peter just lays his head back and closes his eyes. The fever feels slightly better now, still there, but somewhat abated.

“Do you want the bad news or the worse news?”

“Yes.”

“According to this, you're going into an estrus cycle.”

Peter is silent a moment. “Heat. Like an actual wolf.” He closes his eyes. “I shouldn't be able to do that.”

Deaton shrugs. “Magic. The worse news is that, given the threads of powerI can still see, it looks like it's meant to fixate you on the nearest available...option.”

“But it didn't.”

“Nothing's stronger than the mate bond.”

“Fuck.”

“Apparently.” Deaton takes off his gloves. “I don't think that you can just suffer your way through it. Given the strength of the magic, it may not wear off.”

“I'd rather die.”

“I sincerely doubt that, given your penchant for coming back to life.” Deaton starts unbuttoning his lab coat.

Peter watches without expression until the druid's shirt comes off, and he sees the scars. At that, his eyes close and turn away.

“Alan. I...can't.”

Peter hears a snort from the other side of the room. “It's a good thing that you don't have to then. I believe, for this to work, you need to be...bred.”

The vet's voice is dispassionate, clinical, but the words jolt Peter and he feels a rush as the fever – the heat – renews and all he can do is moan out a soft 'yes'.

“It's alright, Peter. I'll take care of you.” _Just like I used to._

It hovers unsaid in the air as Peter feels the surprisingly soft hands pull at his clothing. He lifts his hips as the jeans are pulled off, and then opens his eyes to look at his mate as he sits up on the examining table.

Alan is beautiful, always has been, even with the thick ropey scars across his midsection. His body is toned and that gorgeous cocoa color, and the dark brown eyes are soft as he slides closer, pulling Peter into his arms.

The wolf gets himself together enough to look into Deaton's eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this? You could let me die.”

Alan smiles sadly. “I've never wanted you dead, Peter. Just...different.”

Peter closes his eyes and breathes out a soft sigh. “Yeah.”

And then Alan is kissing Peter and it's tentative at first, but it's a lifeline to a drowning man, and Peter seizes on the Emissary, wrapping around him like a starfish, legs around his waist, arms around the older man's neck.

Deaton just kisses him like that for a while, hands sliding along Peter's back and sides, gentle touches that center him. Eventually, the vet pulls his mouth away and with a surge of strength, he lifts Peter and takes him to the couch in his office.

Gently he lays Peter down, but the heat is surging and Peter doesn't want soft, he wants to be fucked, to be _taken_ , but he's too far gone for words, and simply arches up and whimpers.

Deaton shushes him. “Just a moment, _anamchara.”_ He leaves the room and the further he gets away, the worse Peter feels, and he's actually trembling when Deaton returns with a small bottle. The vet comes close again, and Peter clings to him a moment until the shakes subside.

Alan sets the bottle on the desk and then lays himself on top of Peter, a full body press, and it feels amazing. The werewolf feels surrounded and safe, and the fist around his inside loosens. He takes a deep breath and slides his arms around Deaton's neck, lifting his chin to playfully nip at the human's lower lip, just how he remembers the human liking it, but Alan turns his head. 

“No, Peter. We're _not_ doing that. I'm helping you. It doesn't change anything.”

Stung, Peter pulls back, turns his head and then nods slowly. 

“Understood.” His voice is hoarse and shaky. Peter can't hold onto the sadness though, mind overwhelmed with the pernicious magic, each touch of Deaton's hands stoking his fire now, instead of soothing it.

The older man kneels back, hooking Peter's legs over his shoulder, eyes flicking up to the glowing blue ones. “I'm not going to be able to use protection, Peter. I'm certain that would interfere with the spell's completion. There's...a possibility of conception.”

Peter just nods, accepting the warning, because one slick finger is already teasing at his entrance, and he wants so much more right now that he can't articulate it, just pushes down on the single digit. It works because Deaton moves to two, being careful but Peter doesn't want that.

“Alan...” He's actually whining and he'll be embarrassed about that later, but right now, he just needs to be _fucked_.

“Patience...” But the older man slides another finger in, spreading them and opening Peter up.

“That's enough, _just breed me already_...”

Deaton sighs softly, but he slides himself within the wolf, and it's  _incredible_ . Sex has never felt like this. Peter's every nerve ending is on fire, and he wraps his claws around the edge of the cot, because if he doesn't, he _will_ damage the human.

Peter arches up into Alan's thrusts, rolling his hips, and the druid adjusts so that he's hitting that special bundle of nerves, making the werewolf see stars. It doesn't take long before Peter comes, hot streams arcing to splash on his stomach and chest.

Peter looks up at the human, but Alan's eyes are closed, and then his eyes rolls back into his head as the rhythm speeds up, and Alan leans over him, strong hands wrapping around Peter's hips.

A few more erratic thrusts and then Deaton pushes all the way into him and finishes, filling Peter with his seed. The wolf feels the rush of warmth right before the spell snaps.

An arc of electricity runs through Peter and he jerks, spine bowing up as the vet hurriedly pulls out of him. The feeling spreads throughout his body, and he feels like he's dying for a very long thirty seconds, and then it just vanishes.

Peter's left lying on a cot, sticky and wrung out. The vet cleans himself and pulls his pants back on. He turns to look at Peter.

“Next time, let the spell hit Scott.”

Peter coughs out a bitter laugh. “His mate is dead.”

“Allison wasn't his mate. And yours may as well be.”

A wet cloth lands flies at Peter and he catches it automatically, once again in full control of himself. He wipes himself down as best he can, sighing as he goes into the exam room to retrieve what's left of his clothing.

The Emissary watches him calmly, and then opens the mountain ash barrier to let him past.

“And Peter...”

The wolf halts but doesn't turn around, just watches the human's reflection in the shop window.

“Don't come back here.”

**Author's Note:**

> **Peter is transgender in this fic.**
> 
> Inspiration: Jar of Hearts by Christina Perri
> 
> Please let me know if I need to tag anything. <3
> 
> [Tumblr](goddessofcruelty.tumblr.com)


End file.
